


A Hunter's Mercy

by The_Silver_Souled_Hunter



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Gascoigne's family lives, Hurt/Comfort, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 10:13:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16721388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Silver_Souled_Hunter/pseuds/The_Silver_Souled_Hunter
Summary: The hunter has a close encounter with Father Gascoigne, nearly giving his life to save his loved ones.





	A Hunter's Mercy

The air was thick with the scent of blood. It stained the ground, the tombstones, the garbs of the hunters who mercilessly tore at each other. The Good Hunter ducked and rolled between the trees and tombstones, dodging the wild swings of the blood-addled hunter’s axe. Father Gascoigne snarled and roared with each swing, continuously advancing on the young hunter. A cry of pain sounded through the tomb as the axe made contact with his prey’s torso, sending him tumbling to the ground.

The Hunter, Damien, landed against the base of a tree, pressing his gloved hand against his ribcage in an attempt to stop the bleeding. Gascoigne was towering over him, snarling and drooling as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks. The Hunter whimpered and aimed his pistol at the priest’s chest, anticipating another attack, when another shout rang through the air.

“Gascoigne!” a woman cried. Father Gascoigne turned towards her with a confused growl, allowing the Hunter to stand and get a look at the intruder. She was aged, had blonde hair tied into a bun, and wore a dark blue dress with a beautiful red brooch. Damien’s eyes widened as he noticed the weight of the music box in his coat pocket. This was the mother of that little girl he’d agreed to help, unaware that her husband was now raving mad.

The blood-drunk hunter advanced on the woman, licking his teeth and sniffing the air. She dropped her lantern and backed away, holding her hand over her mouth. “No!” Damien screamed, charging forward and slashing Gascoigne with his Saw Cleaver. He roared in pain and fury, spinning around and shooting the hunter. With his prey stumbling back, he raised his axe and struck the proud little lout, relishing his screams of agony. The woman gasped and grabbed his arm.

“Gascoigne, please! Come to your senses! Leave the poor boy alone!” she cried. Gascoigne slowly turned towards her with a snarl. Feeling his vitality drain away, Damien was determined to save this woman’s life before he was returned to the Dream. He pulled the music box from his pocket, winding it and letting the soothing tune fill the air. He heard Gascoigne gasp and drop his weapons. As he gripped his head, the woman ran up to him and held his face in her hands, desperately pleading to him.

Damien kept the music box wound as he faded in and out of consciousness. To his relief, the growls were turning to gasps and whimpers, eventually devolving into sobs. “Viola…how could I…” he heard Gascoigne cry. Damien released his hold on the music box to pull a blood vial from his pouch. But he was too weak to properly inject it, his hand trembling loosely around the glass vial. As he started to die, he was vaguely aware of voices and approaching footsteps. The last thing Damien felt was a pinch on his thigh and a sudden burst of energy before his world turned dark.

Father Gascoigne gasped upon seeing the hunter go still. The blood should have been quick enough to save him! A lump formed in his throat as he lifted the young man into his arms and pressed his ear to his chest. Viola drew close, placing a hand on his shoulder. Gascoigne gave a sigh of relief and turned to her.

“He’s still breathing, thank the gods. I’d like to make sure it stays that way.” He said. Viola nodded, a mournful look in her eyes. He frowned and raised his head to press his lips to her cheek. “I…words cannot express how sorry I am, my love. After what I’ve done to this young man…what I could have done to you…” he whispered. Viola gently caressed his cheek as he held up the hunter’s limp body.

“Please, Gascoigne, no more hunts. You nearly lost yourself for good this time.” She pleaded. Gascoigne kissed her again and stood, letting the hunter lean against his chest. She could barely tell he was alive besides the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Viola sighed and followed her husband out of the graveyard, cradling the music box in her hands. The hunter would need a change of clothes and possibly some food. Surely they had an extra set of Hunter’s attire from when Gascoigne would train newcomers.

Damien shifted, an ache welling up from his bones. This was not the Hunter’s Dream. Wherever he was it lacked the eerie, yet serene air. He sat up and checked himself over, surprised to find that he was wearing a fresh attire. He was laying on a couch in some sort of living room, which at least held a warm and homey atmosphere. Damien couldn’t help but shudder. After fainting in a cemetery, someone had taken him to their home, undressed him, and tended to his wounds.

Footsteps sounded from the stairs at the other side of the room. Damien quickly laid back down, closed his eyes, and steadied his breathing. “Alright, you can see him. Just be gentle.” A voice similar to Gascoigne’s told an unknown person. Light footsteps approached before tiny hands rested against his arm. He stayed still as another person drew near and leaned over him. Damien flinched and felt his breath hitch when the man pressed the side of his face against his chest.

A chuckle hit his ears as Gascoigne pulled away and nudged his cheek with his thumb. “Well, good to see you’re finally awake, lad. Had us all worried for the last hour.” He said. Damien continued lying still despite the fact that the illusion was broken. “C’mon, lad, wake up. I won’t bite anymore.” The old hunter pleaded. Damien refused to budge. He strained his ears as Gascoigne moved away and whispered to someone.

“Try tickling him until he wakes up, daddy!” a little girl excitedly suggested. One of Damien’s eyes flew open in response.

“Well, nothing ventured nothing gained, I suppose!” Gascoigne exclaimed, moving his hands over the hunter’s stomach. Damien immediately shielded himself with his arms.

“Wait, no-!” he shouted, but it was too late. Father Gascoigne buried his fingers into the young hunter’s belly, drawing hysterical laughter. Damien wiggled and flailed as his stomach was tickled, desperately tying to catch his breath. Gascoigne fortunately relented after a minute or two, allowing him to curl up and let the giggles die down. The priest placed a hand on Damien’s shoulder, only for him to squeeze his eyes shut and whimper again. Gascoigne frowned and reached over to rub gentle circles on his back.

“Shh, it’s alright, kiddo. I’m not gonna hurt you.” He murmured. Damien curled in more, trying to make himself smaller. He remembered the axe tearing through his flesh, the animalistic howls, and the hunter eyeing him as if he were a wounded lamb. Gascoigne sighed and removed his hand from the hunter’s back. “Think you could at least tell me your name?” he asked.

“…Damien.” The young hunter answered after a minute.

Father Gascoigne smiled and got to his feet. “Well, it’s very nice to have you here, Damien. You’re welcome to stay until you’re ready to go back on the Hunt.” He said. Damien watched him leave the room, lying back down with a sigh. A weight suddenly pressed on his abdomen, small arms wrapping around his chest. 

“Oh, Mister Hunter! You brought mummy and daddy back!” the young girl shouted. Damien was frozen for a moment, eventually reaching forward and patting her on the head. He turned his gaze to the stairs, where another, older girl was watching them. She cautiously descended and walked over to the couch.

“Is it true? You brought mum and dad home?” she asked. Damien thought for a moment, realizing that they had actually brought him home, and shrugged. The elder girl frowned and placed her hand on his shoulder. “You were badly hurt when dad brought you in. Did he do that to you?” she continued. How was he supposed to answer that? Damien shook his head and whimpered.

“Madeline! Abigail! Come and eat!” a woman’s voice called. As soon as the girls sped to the kitchen, the smell of bacon and potatoes wafted into the room. Damien’s mouth watered, but he resisted the urge to leave his place. The woman from before walked in, Viola he remembered correctly.

“Wouldn’t you like something to eat, Damien? You must be famished.” She remarked. Before he could respond she pulled him to his feet and lead him to the kitchen, where Gascoigne and the girls were already tucking into some bacon, mashed potatoes, and cheese. Damien rubbed the back of his neck as he took a seat.  
“Really, ma’am, I’m fine! I don’t want to be a burden-ah!” he yelped upon feeling a hearty slap on the back.

“Ease up, lad! You’re not burdening anyone!” Gascoigne assured with a laugh. Damien pulled his mask down with a forced smile, delicately taking a fork and spearing a slice of bacon. The first bite made his eyes widen, realizing how hungry he was. The hunter remained as polite as he could possibly be while shoveling mashed potatoes and cheese into his mouth.

Father Gascoigne glanced up at Damien with a warm smile. “You’ve got the look of a foreigner, lad. Bit young for a hunter too, twenty-three years I’d say?” he remarked. The hunter took a swig of milk, having already finished his meal, and sighed.

“Twenty-four. I came to Yharnam seeking a cure for a seemingly incurable disease,” he paused in his answer to pull his mask over his nose. “I was told to seek Paleblood, given a blood transfusion...and everything went to hell from there.” He sat up straight and directed his attention to Gascoigne, uneasiness welling up in his stomach. It was hard to believe that a man who had come so close to killing him was now conversing with him like an old friend.

“Paleblood, eh? I’ve heard whispers of it during my days in the Healing Church. Which reminds me…” Father Gascoigne dug around in his pocket and handed him a large iron key. “You’ll need this to access the Cathedral Ward.” Damien pocketed the key, giving the priest a nervous, yet grateful nod. By that time the girls had finished their food and run off, an indication that he should get going.

“I suppose it’s time to take my leave.” He said, standing and pushing in his chair. Gascoigne stood as well and stepped closer. Damien tensed up before the old hunter wrapped him up in a gentle hug.

“I’m sorry for attacking you back there, son. I nearly let the beast overcome me,” he whispered. “I no longer dream, and there’s not much I can do for this damned city these days. I just hope you find what you’ve come here for.” He pulled away, Damien biting back a mewl of protest. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been hugged, his years of traveling the land being harsh and lonely.

“You’re welcome to stop by any time you need to rest. It’s the least we could do for you.” Gascoigne said, patting the hunter on the shoulder. Damien nodded and walked to the door. Before he could grab the door handle, something constricted his legs.

Damien looked down in a panic, only to find Abigail and Madeline hugging him. Viola was stood behind him with a smile and gave a small bow. “I cannot thank you enough for saving me and my husband. I do hope you come back to visit sometime.” She said.

Damien broke into a wide grin underneath his mask, a light blush forming on his cheeks. He stepped outside once the girls released him, shutting the door and feeling the cold evening air nip the exposed skin around his eyes. The sun had set while he was out cold, the sky becoming a dark orange.

Having memorized the area by this point, Damien made a swift return to the Tomb of Oedon. Using the key, he unlocked the gigantic iron gate and pushed it open with great force. Before he continued onward, he paused to glance back at Central Yharnam, reflecting on all that had happened since he first awoke. The hunter smiled and shook his head, making his way to his next destination.

**Author's Note:**

> Decided to post something a little different this time. This is from a couple self-indulgent fics I have, and this is probably one of the better written ones. I have no shame.


End file.
